“WHAT?” Lazola said.

I’d had to tap her shoulder like crazy to get her to pull over. Now her visor was flipped up, and she was glaring at me like I was insane. I could tell, even in the dim light from the moon, she was annoyed. But I was too happy! happy! happy! to care.

“I want to drive,” I said.

Lazola shook her big helmeted head. “Uh-uh. No way. I’m already taking enough risks.”

“Come on, pleeeeeeeease!” I gave her my pouty face. Lazola can never resist my pouty face. Don’t judge. You haven’t seen it. I do an EPIC pouty face. Only time it doesn’t get me anywhere is when my parents are blankety-blank-bleep-bleep drunk.


Ja, so I did the pouty face and Lazola sighed. “Fine, but I’m taking you to a quieter road.”

I beamed. “Thank you!”

And as she drove us to a new spot, I started going over my head how you work all the controls. Not like I haven’t tried her scooter a few times. But motorcycles are a bit trickier:

  1. Two hands on the handlebars – those do the steering (duh).
  2. Right handgrip works the throttle. Ja, you know, how much juice to give the engine so you can vrooooooooom.
  3. In front of the right-hand grip is the front brake lever. That’s for stopping. But you need to use that with the rear brake too…
  4. Rear brake lever is operated with the right foot. (Ja, you got to use your hand and foot together. Do keep up.)
  5. Clutch is operated with the left handlebar. (Please tell me I don’t have to explain the clutch? Fine. Clutch helps you change gears. First gear is the most powerful, but is when you are going the slowest and blah blah blah – look it up on the internet.)
  6. Which leaves the left foot shifting the gears. (It’s like the stick thing you see in cars, got it? But this is your foot doing it. So basically, opposite to a car, where in a car, your left foot works the clutch and your left hand shifts the stick, unless you are in the United States where they drive on the other side of the road––no, I don’t know why they do that––and then they usually use automatics which change gears on their own and…again, just use the internet if you are confused. I’ve got a story to tell, hey?)

All of these things I practice in my room all the time. I’ve got some old parts stashed under my bed. Ja, so it isn’t a motorcycle. But I’ve got the handlebars and some grips, and then I just move my feet and use my imagination. Just like they tell you at church – you work with what God gives you, and that’s what I do.


Tell us: Do you think you’d be friends with somebody like Ayesha?